Screw Clinc Duty
by HouseWife
Summary: HUDDY. House doesn't want to think about clinic duty. Takes place before their relationship in the show.  DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters or any part of the show. They belong to FOX.


Work was boring this week. It was one of the few weeks of the year that he didn't have some baffling medical anomaly to solve. He leaned back in his chair, bouncing a tennis ball off the ceiling. It fell back into his hand on every rebound.

As House launched the ball into the air his office door burst open. Concentration shattered, the tennis ball came back down and thumped him in the head. He hardly noticed. Cuddy came blazing across his carpet. "Nothing to do? We have plenty of patients waiting to be looked at."

She towered over him. House leaned back in the chair, uninterested in her tirade. Screw clinic duty. "Oh, goody. Maybe my wish will come true – maybe there will actually be sick people down there instead of idiots with the common cold who think they have cancer." He went back to tossing his ball.

"That's your attitude? Those people are sick – just like the ones that you perform your mad scientist experiments on. You can't divide patients into boring and non-boring." House smirked at the way her eyebrows knitted together and her nostrils flared. He wanted to take her pulse right now – it would be off the chart. He'd like to take her pulse in other situations too.

Cuddy walked around the side of the desk, her perfectly formed legs coming into his view. Professional in every way, but he knew she wore those Do-Me peep toe pumps just for him. "Actually I can. That's how you define the difference between a general practice doctor and a specialized one…I'm special."

"House, get your ass down to the clinic. If you don't do your hours I'm going to make you work the clinic on every holiday from here to Christmas." Her glare cut through him.

"Oh no," he mocked. "I'll miss my valuable time at the bar with Wilson. How else will he avoid his fifth….tieth wife? Why am I being punished for not having any patients? Chase, Foreman and Taub aren't being hounded…Or did you _**do**_ them before me?"

Cuddy launched into a rant about his underlings already having completed their clinic duty for the week. Ugh, his leg was beginning to throb. He popped a Vicodin about a half an hour ago and still hadn't begun to feel the haze he loved so much settle over him. Something had his senses sharpened. He tilted his head, hearing nothing Cuddy was saying but reveling in how delicious her mouth looked. Her pinks were flushed with anger.

There were so many perks to pissing her off. She flushed and her eyes brightened. The fire that he adored came out in full force, shining in her sapphire eyes. Her lips looked fuller and heat rose from her body. If only she were arching her back and moaning under his touch instead of shrieking like a pissed off cat.

"…like you own the place! House, are you listening to me?"

"No…" He had to get out of here before he did something stupid. Snatching up his cane, he rose from the chair and began limping across the room.

"HOUSE! I have… had… it! I'm tired of you ignoring me, disrespecting me, and working against me. If you move another muscle-"

Suddenly heat was coursing through his body. House was so overcome by the feel of her hand on his shoulder he nearly let his cane fall right out of his hand. Just that one touch, the heat from her hand through his powder blue button down was unbearable. What would it be like to feel the warmer parts of her body? Like Vicodin? Better than a Vicodin rush? He couldn't wait anymore…He had to know.

House whipped around, tossing his cane to the ground. He pressed his body against hers and she staggered backward towards the desk. For a brief moment he was terrified she was going to shove him away…maybe slap him and then fire him on the spot, but as he crushed his mouth to hers she didn't even respond.

It wasn't sweet or romantic. Hell, it wasn't even a good kiss. His rough beard scraped against her face as his lips mashed into hers. There was something so hot about this raw, animal collision. Everything he felt for her – a myriad of emotion – was transferring through his lips to hers.

When her mouth opened underneath his it felt like cold water had been poured down his spine. He couldn't believe perfect, composed Cuddy was answering his kiss. He pushed in his tongue and she accepted willingly. Their tongues collided and then she grasped his bottom lip between her teeth.

House pressed his body against hers. Cuddy gave a muffled cry as her backbone slammed into his desk. She bent backwards onto the hard surface, objects rolling off the desk. Paperclips, pens, a stapler, and the half-eaten chicken salad sandwich he stole from Wilson hit the floor.

House's rough hands pushed up her black skirt. He nearly melted under the feeling of her thighs under his hands. Cuddy scooted farther onto the desk. Never did their lips part, and soon House was tugging at her top. Damn it – why couldn't she have worn something with buttons? Something he could just rip off.

At blazingly fast annoying speed Cuddy pressed both of her hands against his chest. She shoved him hard and he staggered backward, landing right on his ass. "House, we can't. This is inappropriate." Her hair was disheveled and her breathing fast and ragged

The door burst open and they both jumped as Wilson came into the office. He stopped abruptly, staring suspiciously at both of them. Like the sun rising, comprehension slowly appeared on his face. He looked at the objects scattered across the floor, to Cuddy, House, and then to the floor again, his eye resting on the half-eaten sandwich.

"Hey! " Wilson cried indignantly "My lunch!"


End file.
